


Lift My Dark Spirits

by FloopDaDoop



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Swap, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fenders, Guilt, Jealousy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Possession, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-21 21:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloopDaDoop/pseuds/FloopDaDoop
Summary: Fenris goes to the Hanged Man with his companions to meet his sister Varania. When Danarius shows up things take a turn for the worse. Now in Anders’ body with powers he resents and a demon he fears, Fenris struggles with what to do with himself as everyone tries to get things back to normal. Then the broody elf makes a decision that has everyone turning on him, even Hawke. (Also, Hawke has a dumb crush?)





	1. Just An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to preface this by saying this is my first attempt at a fanfic and hopefully my first attempt at smut. Since I’m taking classes on writing at Uni I really need the practise (and to be able to actually write smut because I always chicken out). This fic is pretty much just a combination of some of my favourite tropes and tags. I hope you enjoy but keep in mind not everything is canon at the start e.g The fate of the Arishok. Not edited but if there’s anything particularly horrendous I’ll redo or whatever. Sorry in advance for any errors in grammar and so on. I am trying. Constructive criticisms are welcome though I am nervous to share any of my work so please don’t obliterate my self-esteem. I may not update for a little bit since I am procrastinating doing actual work THAT IS DUE TOMORROW aaaaaaaaa. I imagine my rogue Hawke in this fic rather than the base Garrett. If you're interested [here's](https://imgur.com/a/fhea0) what he looks like. So yeah. Hope you like the fic :)

“I win again.” Isabela chimed looking around the table at her defeated companions. They had been playing long enough that no one bothered to knock her down a peg. It was useless. Over the years Wicked Grace in Varric’s room in the Hanged Man was a favourite weekly pastime of almost all of Hawke’s crew. With exception of Justice, everyone had found a way to enjoy themselves. In the late afternoon, the sound of comfortable chatter flowed in from the lower level of the dusky tavern prompting people to have a meal and converse. Silence just never felt right in the Hanged Man. 

The next game was stalling as people were involved in separate discussions. Varric, at the head of the table, sat with Hawke who was telling him about Bethany’s latest letter from the circle. Fenris, across from Hawke, fiddled with a sovereign and pretended he wasn’t listening. Further down Isabela and Anders were joking about as the “sort-of” pirate captain tried to reclaim the cards. Merrill beside her was as confused as ever still pondering the rules of the game. 

“I can never remember which cards are the good ones. I always get distracted by the beautiful illustrations.” The elf sighed handing over her cards to Isabela who shuffled them back into the deck. 

“Perhaps you need more practise, Kitten?” The pirate winked.  
“I’m not sure if that would help. I’m rather hopeless at these games.” Merrill replied.  
“All the more reason to practise, Daisy” Varric called out from the other side of the table.

“I’m not sure practising with Isabela would help. She’ll just cheat, and you’ll feel even stupider for trying.” Anders muttered trying to sound annoyed, but his mouth twitched revealing his amusement. 

“Speaking from experience are we, Anders?” Aveline asked from where she and Donnic sat together. The blonde mage rolled his eyes.  
“Unfortunately for me, I think we all know I am.”  
“No arguments here.” The warrior replied with a small smile, taking a drink from her ale. 

 

* * *

  

The group continued through the evening until it was dark out. Aveline and Donnic had left just before midnight. Things had begun to settle down an hour later as the cards were being packed away and people finished their drinks. Fenris had been trying to make eye contact with Hawke who sat across from him but the man had been distracted all night. First Varric then Anders and then Isabela. Perhaps it would be better to speak to him alone. He watched as his friends reminisced together. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation and people had picked up on his increased broodiness and left him alone for most of the night. Fenris brought his attention back to the discussion. 

“As strange as it sounds, I almost regret that he’s gone, Hawke.” Isabela sighed resting her chin on her hand. Hawke nodded.  
“We weren’t quite friends, but we came to a mutual understanding. It wasn’t perfect, but he left without either of us having to die so that’s a win given my record.” Hawke flashed a winning smile and raised his mug.

Isabela’s replying smile warped into a maniacal smirk.  
“Right, sure. Respect. I was thinking more about the red body paint and his glistening muscles. He was rather easy on the eyes.” 

Hawke shuffled in his seat scratching the scruff on his chin instead of maintaining eye contact.  
“I suppose. There was the whole horrible bloodshed leading up to it though. I’d avoid that all if I could do it over.” Isabela’s eyes were twinkling in a way that had Hawke very concerned. 

“Ah, but his outfit. Sweet Andraste, the only things covering that glorious upper body were straps. I may have to visit Par Vollen just to see another sight like that.” Isabela relaxed back into her chair.  
“What about you, Hawke. I’m sure you’d join me.”  
Varric turned to his companion with an inquisitive eyebrow raised that asked: ‘what is she getting you into now, Hawke?’

“I’m not sure I want to know what they’re talking about,” Anders said making eye contact with the confused Dwarf.  
“Sure, you do. Hawke and I were just recalling and appreciating the magnificent sight of the Arishok. We’re very disappointed he had to leave.” This gained everyone’s attention.  
“The Arishok? Really?” Varric almost chuckled looking at both friends.

The groups’ gaze turned to Hawke whose cheeks were heating up.  
“Maker, I am not elaborating,” Hawke muttered, taking another drink. Isabel laughed gleefully. The pirate took much pleasure from making Hawke uncomfortable which was evident throughout the years they had known each other. 

“Oh, I knew it, Hawke.”  
“I hate you. I hate you very much.”  
“Ha, No you don’t. What was it that he called you in that deep sexy voice just before he left? Fenris what was it?” Isabela looked over at the brooding elf who was watching silently. 

“Basalit-an.” He grumbled. Isabela laughed as she tried to imitate Fenris’ pronunciation.  
“Your Qunlat needs work. You are butchering the language.” Fenris shook his head but not enough to hide the upturn to his mouth.  
“Hawke, it is proof that he respected you greatly,” Fenris said to the mildly uncomfortable man.  
“I’m sure Hawke would’ve liked to have been ‘greatly respected’ right on the steps of the Qunari Compound.” The pirate snarked. Even Merrill got that one as Hawke saw when her ears twitched, and she giggled beside Isabela. Fenris guessed that Hawke wanted to slam his head against the table and end it all. He was thinking of doing the same.

“As much as I would love to continue this conversation, I do have things to do tomorrow, like never talk to any of you again.” The pirate pouted as Hawke stood up from the table. “Spoilsport.”

Anders, who had been persuaded by Hawke to stay in his guest room to ‘sleep on a real bed’, stood to leave as well. With no drink to finish, he pushed in his chair and waited. Fenris was about to call out to Hawke when the man in question turned to him.

“Fenris, could you accompany Merrill back to the Alienage?”  
“Actually, Hawke, I was hoping to speak with you.” The man’s concern was evident as he nodded immediately and turned to speak to Merrill.  
After having Merrill agree to stay in another of Hawke’s guest beds, Anders and Merrill made their way to Hightown together. Varric was sitting at his desk and Isabela had slipped off down the hall into her own room. Hawke turned to Fenris in the now mostly empty room.  
“Is something bothering you?” The elf nodded and motioned for his friend to sit back down. He did.

“I do not enjoy asking this of you, but I need your aid, Hawke.” The elf’s discomfort was evident in his rigid posture. 

“I- I had Aveline follow up on Hadriana’s claims” Hawke leaned forward resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together.  
“About your having a sister?”  
“Yes. So far, she seems to have been telling the truth.”  
“This is troubling somehow, I take it?” The man’s brow crease appeared as he contemplated.

“Indeed. Hawke, Hadriana was among the cruellest of my captors. She would not pass up an opportunity to deceive me, even in death.”  
“You think it could be a trap?”

“I am… unsure. I wrote to my supposed sister and made contact with her. I had trouble convincing her, but she agreed to come to Kirkwall with the coin I sent. Aveline has told me an elf matching Varania’s description was seen in Lowtown recently.”  
“And you think this has been going a little too smoothly, so you want to be sure?”  
“…Yes.”  
Fenris, though he appeared agitated, was confident the human would agree to help. He had been accepting and supportive of Fenris’ fight against slavers before. Luckily he was right.

“Okay. Where are we meeting her?”  
“Here at the Hanged Man. She agreed to meet tomorrow afternoon. I would appreciate it if you came with me, Hawke. I couldn’t do It alone. If things were to go wrong I don’t know how I would-. ” Unsure of how to finish his sentence, Fenris fell silent, starting at his sovereign on the table. 

He desperately wanted this to go well. To have a sister would change everything. He could have someone to provide for, spend his coin on. He could have his own family to protect after years apart, but there also came ideas that made him less hopeful. What if Hadriana had been lying and she was still a slave? The letter may not even have reached her. He considered how he had left Varania in Tevinter. Had they left on good terms? Fenris had no idea if she wanted a brother again since his brands had removed any memory of her. Hawke could see that the elf was deeply conflicted about the meeting.

“Fenris, of course I’ll come. If this really could be your sister, I would be happy to help.” Hawke smiled at Fenris who was still unnerved. The elf said his thanks before watching Hawke leave the tavern. He didn’t think he would sleep very well tonight though he decided he really should try. Fenris picked up his coin, said goodbye to Varric, and exited into the streets of Lowtown. 


	2. Maleficar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang go to the Hanged Man to follow up on Aveline's leads on Fenris' sister. They hope the meeting will be a simple reunion but are suspicious of the new patrons in the tavern. Hawke is hopeful. Varric and Fenris are not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having some trouble with italics so if they go crazy and haven't worked I apologise. This chapter had not been edited but if you point out any errors I'll try to fix them. Updates are random for the moment but will keep coming. I may make a schedule or something but for the moment i'll just keep posting whenever i feel like it. Thanks for the support to those who commented on the first chapter. The kudos and bookmarks are also apreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

Waking up in silky white sheets was a luxury no other elf in Kirkwall had, but when you drink most nights and barely sleep enough any bed can feel like a wooden board. Though he had decided drinking would not be wise, Fenris had still slept less that he would have liked. It had not been by choice. Stumbling out of bed, his head slightly ached as he looked out the sliver between his curtains.

Lack of sleep tended to make the brands hurt more for whatever reason. He didn’t know why.  
The abomination had asked once to check on his brandings to lessen the pain somehow and find the cause, but it had likely been a trap of some kind. If not, it would surely make it worse. They, the tattoos, were often causing him harm, a mage touching him would not fix that, even less so a demon in a man’s body.

Fenris was coming down his decrepit stairs, dressed and ready to go eat, when the realisation slapped him in the face. Today was special.

_I’m meeting my sister today _.__

____

Even just the words: my sister managed to twist an uncomfortable coil within Fenris’ stomach. He really tried not to invest so much hope in the idea of having a sibling and for the most part, it worked, but there was always a lingering thought.

_I could really be happy _.__

____

He found himself wondering how she would act. Did she remember their parents? He repeated her name within his head, thinking about how much he enjoyed saying it. Varania. It sounded pleasant, like it belonged to someone kind, maybe? It was then that Fenris realised that perhaps trying not to get his hope up was a losing battle. “Focus, she is unlikely to even show,” he tried to assure himself, leaving his mansion and heading towards Hawke’s deeper into the heart of Hightown.

_She would not want to keep in contact with a brother who left her in Tevinter. She would not want a brother if she knew me _.__

____

Fenris reached Hawke’s estate, knocked, and was let in by Bohdan who had cheerily said that Hawke was inside eating breakfast and to please come in. Once inside he made his way to the kitchen where he saw two of his least favourite people. Still at Hawke’s after staying the previous night, Merrill and Anders sat eating enjoying Orana’s cooking. The two mages were sitting at a table on opposite ends while Hawke was in a seat between the two. He ate with a pensive expression as he held a book with one hand and fed himself with the other. Merrill ate, looking at the cover of Hawkes’ book. Orana continued cooking in the corner humming an unfamiliar tune while Anders carefully watched the blood mage with a displeased look. When Anders notices Fenris his disapproving expression turned to him.

“Look who has graced us with his presence this morning,” The abomination had smiled in a sort of flat uncaring way. Merrill and Hawke’s attention turned the warrior.

“I’m not here for you, Mage” the elf sneered.

“And here I had gotten my hopes up. I so desperately wanted the attention of a mage hating bigot.” Anders replied, his nose scrunched up a bit when looking at the elf.

Hawke’s gaze shifted to both of them, his disapproval clear. Anders returned to his meal pulling apart a slice of bread with his hands.

“Fenris, it’s okay. Please sit. Would you care for breakfast? It’s a bit early to go off to the Hanged Man yet.” The man motioned to the seat in front of him. Fenris sat.

“I could cook you something.” Orana’s expression brightened, wiping her hands on a nearby cloth.

“A meal would be appreciated,” Fenris said. Hawke, grateful, smiled at Orana before returning to his companion.  
“If you’re comfortable with it, I was thinking Varric and Anders would join us.” Hawke raised a finger motioning for Fenris to not bother with his complaint.

“Before you say anything, yes, we need to bring a mage. We’re not having anyone bleed out. Especially not in such a shithole of a bar.” Hawke muttered, putting his book down. Though less than pleased, Fenris agreed reluctantly. There was no good choice between a blood mage and an abomination. He would rather have Bethany accompany them. She had seemed understanding and in control of her abilities, more importantly, she had never been tempted by a demon. There was little he could do though; she was in the circle, much to Hawke’s dismay.

“Very well,” The elf agreed. At least Varric and Hawke would be there. They were reliable.

 

* * *

  

At eleven, Isabela arrived at the Hawke estate to find the Champion of Kirkwall and his dog having a conversation. They quietened down as she approached.

“Please, don’t stop on my account. It’s rather adorable, actually.” She stopped, crossing her arms and slanting her hips as she always did. The dog’s tail wagged.

“No, Narrin. I’m clearly the adorable one,” Hawke joked scratching him behind the ears. A low growl resonated from the Mabari. Hawke laughed at his attention-seeking dog.

“Fine, Fine. You’re an adorable big boy okay.” Hawke assured the dog. Narrin seemed pleased.

“As wholesome as this interaction is I am here for a reason. I saw Varric up in Hightown a while ago. He said he’d meet you at the Hanged Man.” The pirate explained to Hawke and his dog. Hawke thanked Isabela and called out to his companions that it was time to head out. Anders came out of the library and Fenris stalked out from the Kitchen. Narrin, who wanted to come as well, stood by the door watching Hawke expectantly. The dog was disappointed when Hawke told him to stay. He huffed and sat by the fire, refusing to look at anyone.

_And they call me broody _.__

____

“Time to meet your sister.” Hawke grinned, playfully tapping the warrior’s shoulder.  
Fenris tried not to grimace.

 

* * *

  

Varric stood, leaning beside the entrance of the tavern watching Hawke, Fenris and Anders approach. He didn't say anything. That wasn't a good sign. Varric always said something. The group entered the tavern together to find it was more crowded than usual considering it was midday. Each of their eyes scaled across the room, scanning for an elven girl with bright red hair.

“I don’t like this, Broody. I’m seeing a couple too many new faces around here for it to be a coincidence,” Varric grumbled beside Fenris. It was true. It also seemed many of these people were well equipped for a fight too which did not bode well.

After scanning the patrons with no red-headed elf in sight, Fenris resigned himself to disappointment.  
“It should not surprise me,” he thought.

Hawke and Varric, who had not yet come to the same conclusion, began walking further into the tavern to get a better look at the back of the room. The Champion elbowed Fenris when they got closer to the stairs leading to Varric’s back room. Sitting at a table by herself left of the stairs was an elf matching Aveline’s reports. Fenris couldn’t help but stare. He stepped forward, walking towards her as his companions followed close behind.

“Varania?” Looking up, his sister revealed the same deep emerald irises as her brother. An uncomfortable flush of memories came to Fenris as he looked into her familiar eyes. He could recall playing with her when they were younger, before the markings. He was easily overwhelmed. It was the earliest thing he could remember, and it had come rushing to his mind at full force.

“You, you are my sister. I remember you.” He said, daring to move closer. Varania nodded in response though she lacked the bewilderment of her brother.

“It really is you, Leto.” She spoke so quietly. Fenris’ racing mind came to a halt.

_Leto, my name? ___

Varania’s gaze turned downcast as she stood up. Unable to look at her brother, she held her hands in front of her, fingers clasping together. She said nothing else. Fenris was confused.

“You seem disturbed. Why are you so-.” Fenris asked his sister but was disrupted. Hawke and Varric’s stances sifted.

“I’m sorry, Fenris but I think we need to go,” Hawke said, unsheathing his two daggers. Varric uttered his agreement with Bianca ready by his side. Then Fenris caught something in his periphery. Coming down the stairs to their right was a bearded man, his facial hair wispy and dark grey, his face was creased. His eyes were shimmering with wicked delight. Three heavily armed guards followed him, behind them was an elf in chains. His shoulder-length black hair obscured part of his face. A silver collar glimmered around his neck, the chain connected to it was held onto by one of the guards.

“My little wolf.”

Danarius.

His companions saw the exact moment Fenris’ hope shattered. His eyes tore away from his former master and stared into his sisters. An accusing glare shadowed Fenris’ gaze. It was the ultimate betrayal and by his own family. Perhaps Fenris wasn’t the disappointing sibling after all.

“You lead him here.” Fenris’ voice took on its growly tone he used only for those he truly despised. It was a voice Anders knew well. The Magister, amused by Varania’s betrayal, watched as Fenris berated his sister. When he reached the bottom of the stairs Varania took a step closer to him and away from her brother.

“Now, Fenris. She is only doing the right thing. Your sister is helping me find my stolen property.”

“He is not your property. Fenris will not be going with you.” Hawke threatened. Anders shrugged from behind him.

“Would it really be so bad if they took him?” The abomination asked, removing his staff from his back. The grumbled response suggested that was not an option. Anders rolled his eyes.

“I see. The Champion of Kirkwall is your new master? No matter. Perhaps we could take him with us as well?” The Magister sneered his suggestion.

Fenris leapt towards the Magister with his sword in hand pulling in down to find Danarius had disappeared. The suspicious new faces around the Hanged Man leapt into action. Varric was right. Hawke, Varric and Anders remained close together taking out anyone that got too close. Fenris, unable to see his former master, began cutting down each guard he could see. The three men who had followed Danarius down were quickly disposed of. The elven slave was released when his chain hit the floor. Big blue eyes look up in fear for a second before he moved away beside the stairs and cast his gaze downward. The resulting blood and spatter did not bother Fenris but Ander’s pulling on his magic close by made the lyrium brands hum in an unsettling way he had not felt in a long time. The group had dispatched almost all of the guards when Fenris felt a familiar hot numbness and then a stabbing pain throughout his body. It wasn’t Anders’ casting.

“H-Hawke.” He called out trying to speak but unable to form a sentence. He was sensitive after such a long time away from the unbearable pain. No longer desensitised, the elf tried to bite his tongue when another wave of pain shot through his limbs.

Hawke looked up to see the warrior give him a desperate look. Behind him was Danarius at the top of the stairs. Blood moved around him circling and feeding into his spells. The liquid spiralled and weaved around the Magister like a snake as he smirked down at everyone.

“Blood magic, be careful!” Hawke yelled to the group as demons arose from the ground. The Champion leapt across to the front of the tavern with Varric where the corrupted beings and walking corpses began to rise first. It was at this point the patrons of the tavern began fleeing in a hurry. Blood magic was where they drew the line it seemed.

“You think you can stop me? You belong to me, Fenris. Come here so we can return home.” Danarius commanded from above. Varania, in the corner of the room, watched the Magister raise his demons around him. Fenris dashed away from the flashing dying corpse of a shade and towards his former master.

“You will come with me. I will make sure of it.” The Magister threatened, the blood around him swirled faster as Fenris approached. The elf staggered forward, his brands heating as he drew closer. The magister's new slave shook as Fenris drew near, fearful of what his master's enemy would do to him. Fenris let him be. Instead, Danarius summoned a rage demon to block the former slave’s path up. The wooden floor beneath it seared and sizzled as it slid around like some monstrous slug. The demon’s deep groan shook the room. It pushed forward swinging a limb towards Fenris. It missed. Instead, the limb struck Danarius' slave. His skin made a horrible singeing noise as the demon made contact with his flesh. It blistered instantly into an awful mess. He screamed, clutching his chest and side, sliding to the ground, his chain rattling with him. Fenris, trying to gain the demon's attention away from the helpless slave, lugged his sword straight through its middle. His sword was engulfed by flames and came out clean the other side. It did nothing.

“Stupid blighted elf.” Anders groaned from where he had remained by the table casting his spells. He ran closer to Fenris and casted an ice spell on the demon, allowing Fenris to shatter it with a firm hit from his blade's pommel. The elf cut down another shade and received a slash to his side, with an irritated grunt he continued on leaving Anders to tend to the slave as he pleased. Slicing into a second shade, he made his way up the stairs and cornered the Tevinter mage. Danarius was preparing to cast another spell when Fenris lit his brands and forced his right hand into his chest, materialising and crushing his heart in a second. An uncomfortable dragging feeling in his head began to take hold of him but was quickly interrupted as the spell on the Magisters’ lips died out. Instead, all the man could do was call out to his loyal Varania.

“You are mine.” The Magister’s final whisper.

“I belong to no one.” The former slave seethed. Fenris pulled and ripped Danarius’ heart out with a feral shout. He opened his fist and the mutilated organ fell to the ground. The Magister’s body crumpled to the floor, his robes quickly becoming bloodstained as the floating spirals of his own blood cascaded down upon him like putrid rain. The Magister’s eyes remained wide in disbelief. Fenris wanted to smirk. It was almost amusing, but there was still Varania.

He turned around before receiving a wave of healing to his side. The abomination’s doing no doubt. Fenris scowled at the unwelcome healing, he didn't know it hadn't been directed at him. Fenris descended the stairs, coming to the bottom he saw the effect of the rage demons' blow. Anders, who was now on his knees beside the slave, had his eyes closed as he healed. What was left behind was a horrid mess of melted flesh and blood. Judging by Ander's morbid expression, it seemed there was little the mage could do. Fenris, unable to look any longer, looked down at his right arm, now drenched in blood up to his elbow. The blood of a Magister and a slaver. His disgust was interrupted by the same pulling feeling Danarius had created just moments ago. There was a dizziness overcoming him. Hawke and Varric, having disposed of the other demons, turned around to see Anders crouching by the slave and a swaying Fenris. Hawke’s eyes fell on Varania.

“Your sister? How…” The astonished Champion began asking. Fenris turned to see Varania in the same stance as Danarius in the corner she had been cowering in. She had a slash to her left wrist and was chanting in Tevene with her arms raised and her eyes locked onto Fenris.

“Well, shit.”

“A blood mage?” Fenris, stunned, tried to speak, his words almost failing him.

“Hawke, stop her. She’s doing someth-.” Fenris didn’t get a chance to finish. Varric shot Varania’s shoulder. Bianca’s arrow planted itself into her flesh, the elf’s arm fell limp to her side as she yelped. The blood swirling and coiling around her fell to the ground splattering against her clothes and shoes. Fenris, unable to stay upright any longer, watched his sister cry out in pain just before he collapsed to the floor. He didn’t feel himself fall to the ground. Everything felt so numb. Fenris’ vision dimmed as he heard a second body fall before being lost to unconsciousness.

 

* * *

  

Waking up, the first thing he noticed was the undeniable scent of ale and filth… still in the Hanged Man. The next was the familiar voice of Varric and then Hawke. Fenris leapt up. Varric was beside him. The slave lay nearby. Quiet, dead perhaps. The tavern was still empty.

“Whoa, take it easy, Blondie. You were out of it for a few seconds.” Varric’s concern reached his brows which drew down. _Blondie _? Fenris was about to ask what he meant but then he saw Varania, his sister, still standing over in the corner. Splattered with scarlet, she watched Fenris approach. She seemed shorter now; maybe it was because she was shaking.__

__“Please, I had no choice, Leto. You have no idea what mother and I went through.” A single tear fell down her cheek. Fenris couldn’t find any pity for her. She had given him up. He could have given her anything._ _

____

“I was training to become a Magister. I was his apprentice.”

____

“You would give up your own family for magic? And I thought you would be disappointed by me.” Fenris snarled in a voice that didn’t sound like his own, His now copper eyes began to flicker luminous blue but all Fenris saw was her fear.

____

“You are not my sister,” Fenris growled, trying to light his brands. Instead, a thunderous bolt of lightning and ice shot forward piercing through Varania’s chest. His eyes flickered back as he was overcome by horror but he didn’t see her face as she died. Instead, a murderous scream sounded out from behind him. He turned, ignoring the speechless dwarf with Bianca in hand. Hawke was crouched down by... Fenris? Who was screaming as his brands lit up and died down over and over.

____

“Anders, I need help! Do you have any way to ease the pain? I haven’t seen him this bad before.” Hawke was frantically removing a health poultice from a satchel.

____

“I am not Anders!” Fenris tried to keep his tone level but his voice was warping. It boomed deeply.

____

This was too much. Varania’s betrayal, Danarius’ death after years of running and now whatever this was. Suddenly his body was cold and humming. Hawke watched in horror as blue sparks emitted from him. Fenris panicked as he felt thoughts within his head that weren’t his own. His body went rigid with realisation and suddenly he had no control.

____

“This is not right! Where is Anders?” Justice roared. Varric backed away.

____


	3. Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a ritual gone wrong, Fenris is left in immense pain as the rest of the companions try to figure out what's wrong. When they need him most, Anders is overcome by Justice who rampages off into Lowtown. Hawke and the gang are left wondering who is who and what exactly Varania has done as they try to reverse it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally had time in between assessments to get another chapter finished. I still have a few weeks until the trimester is completely over so I'll get around to post more often once I have more free time (that is still two weeks away though). Feel free to comment and stuff. Your support is appreciated and motivates me to keep writing. For those waiting for the smut, it is a looong way off, sorry. I already have the whole plot planned out with a few minor things I'm working out so I can say with confidence that there won't be any proper fenders for a long while. If you think I should change the rating to mature and then raise to explicit when the smut comes in please tell me. I've been considering it. 
> 
> This chapter has not been edited but I will fix anything I notice or that you guys call out. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“Hawke, I hate to sound like a templar but whatever’s going on here has got something to do with the magic trick Broody’s sister just showed us,” the dwarf tried to speak quietly to the Champion. The raging spirit didn’t need to be angered further. Hawke nodded in recognition but was distracted trying to unbuckle Fenris’ armour.

“Justice? I need Anders. Fenris is hurt!” Hawke commanded from the ground beside the elf who was now convulsing in agony. His horrific screams seemed to scare anyone from re-entering the tavern.

“Anders is not here. I’m n-not-,” Justice’s voice morphed and roared, his eyes flickered changing sporadically from brown to blue. Varric aimed Bianca at Justice.

“Fine, Justice, just please help!” The Champion cried, trying to restrain Fenris to see where the pain was coming from. The air around Justice began humming and vibrating more frantically.

“I can not help you!” The spirit shouted, grabbing Anders’ staff and charging out of the Hanged Man in a dazed rampage.

“Damn it, Anders. Come back!” Hawke, the now flustered man, yelled after him. It didn’t help. They had now lost a healer who they desperately needed. Anders was gone and Fenris was still screaming on the ground. Hawke needed to do something. He turned to the dwarf by his side and pleadingly directed him.

“Varric, go back to Hightown and see if you can get Merrill. She knows a few minor healing spells hopefully, she’ll know what to do. We can help Justice later.”

“On my way.” Varric left the tavern for Hawke’s estate hoping Merrill had stayed around for longer. With all the poultices and potions, he had on him, the Champion did what he could to aid Fenris until help came. It was disturbing to see the elf with tears in his eyes from the pain. Fenris had never cried in front of him before. Hawke couldn’t imagine what it felt like.

“You will get through this, Fenris. Anders is gone but help is coming, I promise.” Hawke assured him, taking hold of one of Fenris’ hands as the elf clamped down in pain. The brands flickered violently as the elf’s eyes opened slightly. He gasped for air looking up at the Champion.

“Anders.” He choked. Hawke shook his head.  
“Anders isn’t here. Merrill can help.”

“N-no,” Fenris groaned, tightening his grip and hissing through his teeth. “I’m Anders.”

 

* * *

  

The mabari had known something was wrong before Varric had knocked on the door. He had leapt and barked around by the doorway, excited from hearing the dwarf approach. Bodhan, unable to control the dog, had left him bounding around the entrance. Merrill and Isabela, who were at the time still lounging around Hawke’s estate, had come over to see what all the fuss was about. Then, Varric had called out and, with the briefest of explanations, the group of four had left for the Hanged Man near immediately.

It was the mabari closely followed by Isabela that arrived first. Narrin ran inside finding Hawke near the back of the tavern. Isabela unsheathed her blades and stalked over beside the mabari. She stepped over bodies carefully, unsure if any guards or demons remained.

“Merrill?” Hawke called out.  
“She and Varric will be here any second, the slowpokes.” The pirate assured as she looked down at the elf. She didn’t say anything. Her uncharacteristic silence continued when noticing the dead slave by Fenris and what she assumed was Varania’s corpse in the corner which appeared to have been impaled by a giant icicle. 

“Also, it seems the city guard has been called, something about blood magic. It’s only a matter of time until the templars come to see what’s happened. For now, Aveline is outside with her men trying to tame the crowds,” Isabella motioned over to the door. Deciding the room was safe, she sheathed her blades.

“Good. Isabela, could you help me lift him up onto one of the tables so Merrill can have a better look at him when she arrives?” Isabela nodded, bending over and taking hold of Fenris’ wrists. Hawke then stood up taking the elf’s legs just as the mage in question arrived.

“Hawke?”  
“Over here. We’re putting him up on the table.” Hawke motioned his head over to the cleared space. The Champion and the pirate hoisted the elf up and placed him on the surface as Merrill approached. The commotion outside seemed to be getting louder.

“Maybe next time bring the mabari to play messenger instead of the vertically challenged dwarf.” Varric huffed with a smirk towards Narrin as he entered. The dog yawned.

“So, what’s going on, Hawke?” Isabela asked watching the elf on the table. They each went silent taking in the sight of Fenris. He shook and turned almost falling off of the table. Hawke and Isabela stood forward trying to restrain him as he screamed.

“I’m a bit busy right now. We need to pacify him somehow. I’ve already tried poultices and potions.” Hawke replied.  
“I could use a spell, but it might hurt him more for a few seconds,” Merrill suggested, grasping her staff closer. Hawke nodded. “Do it.”

Merrill, though hesitant, raised her staff and looked down at Fenris.  
“Sorry about this,” she whispered before a bright light began emitting from her hands. Fenris screamed when his markings flared in response to Merrill’s spell. Isabela and Hawke noticed his skin was uncomfortably warm as they tried to keep him still. The sweat he had worked up made it difficult to grip onto him. The white light from Merrill’s spell began encompassing the elf. He drew quiet and stopped thrashing about when the light absorbed into him. Soon enough he was asleep. Hawke sighed, leaning against the table in relief.

“Thank you, Merrill. Well done.” The exhausted rouge said. Merrill smiled while lowering her hands.

“You might want to move him to a more private location while you have the chance. Aveline can only keep the drunkards and templars out for so long,” Varric warned.  
“We’ll take him back to my place, through the old cellar entrance in Darktown,” Hawke decided.

“Good idea.”

 

* * *

  

Being a dwarf, Varric knew very little of magic and even less of healing magic, but, being a mother hen, he knew that he needed to be useful and try to find Blondie instead of worrying about Fenris. There wasn’t anything he could do. 

Once Hawke, Isabela and Merrill had safely passed through Darktown and reached the cellar to the estate, Varric made a detour to Anders’ clinic deeper within the undercity. The gang had been to busy to notice his departure, but he didn’t blame them considering recent events. The walk wasn’t too far. Strangely enough, the closer Varric got to the clinic the safer he felt. Though he would never admit it, he had called in some favours to protect Anders’ little corner of the underground area. As tiresome as his ranting about mage rights were, he still did good work for the less fortunate people of Kirkwall. Varric respected his work and, as long as they weren’t templars, people tended to leave the healer unharmed. Many of those living in the undercity and Lowtown were rather protective of the mage who fixed their illnesses and injuries without payment. 

The smell of sewage was almost non-existent around the clinic. Cleanliness was impossible in Darktown but Anders and the few volunteers he had did their best. Stepping around a puddle, Varric noticed the usual lantern wasn’t lit. Unusual but not unheard of on the few days Anders took to rest. He opened the door but found that the clinic was completely empty. 

“Blondie?” Varric called out. Maybe he was in his back room? There was no reply. No movement at all. Varric turned back around and exited clinic. This wasn’t good. If Justice was still in control of Anders and he was rioting around Kirkwall he was bound to be picked up by templars sooner or later. They were less likely to see the distinction between a supposed benevolent spirit and an abomination, but this was not all that troubled Varric. After Varania’s spell in the Hanged Man, Varric was questioning what had really happened. Coming to the clinic had been for peace of mind, a sort of ignorant hope that perhaps Varric and Hawke had just dreamed the whole thing up. Maybe he had imagined the blood magic part. Anders would be back in the place he felt safest and Varric would be content knowing that Fenris was being taken care of. This wasn’t the case. Whatever Varania had done was bad news and Justice was still nowhere to be found. If Justice or Anders had been distressed they would have fled to Darktown. But they didn’t. Judging by what happened in the tavern, Varric was becoming convinced that perhaps he shouldn’t be looking for Anders at all. Sure, his body needed to be found, but he wondered who would be controlling it.

 

* * *

  

The room was dark and quiet. Though he was still filthy, Fenris lay sleeping in one of Hawke’s spare bedrooms. He seemed to be sleeping soundly but it was impossible to tell how he was feeling until he woke up. Hawke had taken the elf’s armour off and set it aside on a nearby dresser, Fenris’ greatsword sat leaning against the wall beside it. He was left bare-chested with nothing but his dark leggings on. His exposed tattoos had since dulled, no longer frantically flickering. Isabela, who was now downstairs asking Orana to make some soup, had cleaned away most of Danarius blood but there was only so much you could do without a bath. After giving him a once over, Merrill decided that there were no physical wounds on Fenris that could be causing him so much pain. 

“He has no injuries that I can see so I may not be of much help. I only know how to heal small cuts and headaches,” Merrill frowned. 

Hawke scratched his stubble.  
“I’m more concerned about what he said before he collapsed.”  
“And what was that?”  
“Ferris said that he was Anders.”

The two of them looked over at the sleeping elf. He said what now?  
“Surely not. Hawke, you don’t really think that is Anders?”

“I know it sounds absurd, but it almost makes sense... Anders collapsed right after Fenris and when they woke up it was Anders who killed Varania. Even before that, Varania had referred to Anders as her brother, Leto. I think she knew that her spell had worked.” Hawke contemplated, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Or … almost worked. I don’t think she intended for Anders and Fenris to switch bodies as they seem to have.” The man reasoned, trying to understand what was happening.

“If that’s true, Fenr- I mean... Anders,” Merrill began, “May have been in pain because of the effect that blood magic had on the lyrium tattoos.” Hawke nodded in agreement. “Yes. They’re already sensitive to magic. Blood magic must have a more intense effect.” 

“That’s not all, Hawke. If the spell really switched Anders’ and Fenris’ consciousnesses, this magic must be far more advanced than we thought. This might be a spell that only another tevinter mage could reverse.” The blood mage looked down at the floor and held her hands together. She understood that if Anders woke up in Fenris’ body there was a chance that he may remain in Fenris’ body forever. This magic was beyond her own ability.

“If that is the case, blood magic especially can have a scaring effect on the veil. It is…”  
“Violent?” Hawke suggested. His brow furrowed.  
Merrill sat at the foot of the bed, being careful not to sit of Fenris’ feet.

“Well that isn’t the word I would use but yes. It may have weakened the veil around the Hanged Man, blood magic does that. When Fenris or Anders or whoever is sleeping over there wakes up, they may be sore, but I think they’ll be better here where the veil isn’t damaged. With a stronger barrier against the fade, I don’t think the lyrium markings will hurt as much as they did before.”

“Are you saying each time you cast blood magic the veil grows weaker?” Hawke’s distaste for blood magic was understood among his companions. His disapproving glance at Merrill did not go unnoticed.

“No, this was a very intense spell but, it should mend itself over time.” Merrill sighed. Hawke walked over to pick up one of Fenris’ gauntlets, running his index finger along the sharp metallic spines.

“Well, we can’t do anything for Anders or Fenris until he’s awake. We still need to find Justice and whoever now shares their mind with him.” His sentence was interrupted by a short gravely cough.

“He’s not in his clinic. If the templars have already gotten to Blondie and Justice even the great Champion of Kirkwall might have trouble talking him out of this one,” Varric snarked by the doorway. Merrill and Hawke looked at each other.

“About that…” Hawke began, “We may not be looking for Justice or Anders after all.”  
“Well, we’ll be looking for Anders’ body at least” Merrill stated, failing at reassuring her two friends.  
“We just don’t know who's using it at the moment.”

“Yeah, Daisy, I know. I’m trying to be positive for once because really, when you look at this whole mess, maybe templars aren’t the worst-case scenario,” the dwarf wearily responded.

“Of all things, why’d it have to be blood magic?”

 

* * *

  

It was late afternoon by the time Hawke, Varric, Aveline, and Narrin reached Fenris’ mansion in Hightown. Merrill remained by Fenris’ side in case he woke up with Isabela close by for help if he started convulsing again. The group made no attempt at appearing casual. It would have been rather useless. There was nothing normal about the Captain of the Guard and the Champion entering what appeared to be an abandoned house, well-armed and ready to fight. So, they travelled in silence and entered the mansion quickly so passers-by wouldn’t have a chance to look in or inquire further about their businesses in the dusty old place. With the door behind them locked, the group made a once-over of the first room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Fenris, Anders, Justice? Are you here?” Hawke called out.

If Justice was still disorientated it was best to announce their presence rather than surprise the spirit, Hawke had decided. He had almost thought he would get no reply when, as the group continued through the house, they heard a tremendous clashing noise. Deciding that was announcement enough, Hawke rushed forward to locate the source of the sound.

“This could be dangerous without the aid of a templar, Hawke,” Aveline said, shield raised as she followed. Almost as if to prove she was right, another loud crash came out from the direction of Fenris’ room. The group quickened their pace. 

“Yes, because bringing a templar will really settle Justice’s nerves.”  
“You know that’s not what I was saying. I just mean that a sympathetic templar could neutralise Anders before he caused any harm. We have no way to disrupt magic.”

“Sure, but they could very well make everything worse,” Hawke muttered, reaching Fenris’ door. Even before opening it, Hawke was reluctant to go inside. The door itself wasn’t a welcoming sight, it was a rather bad sign in fact. Laying, discarded, in front of the door was Anders’ staff. He was here. Little sharp icicles reached out from underneath the door. They formed along the floor, freezing into cracks and holes in the tiles. Had he had lost control of his powers?

Hawke gripped the door handle and tried to open but the ice gave resistance, crunching against the wood. With a firm pull, the door broke free revealing Anders, or Anders’ body at least, sitting, hugging himself tightly on the ground and leaning against the front of Fenris’ bed. The room was blanketed in a layer of snow and smelt like night air right after rain had come, a surprisingly fresh scent in the decaying building. Large ice spires reached out from the ground around the frightened man sitting on the floor. Hawke put out a protective hand to prevent anyone else from entering the room. He took a few steps forward, trying to navigate through broken glass and snow.

“Justice is that you?” Hawke asked. He tried to keep his movements slow and steady as if he were taming the mage. Anders, or Justice or Fenris or whoever it was, hugged themselves tighter. Their hands were raised, pressing against their forehead. Powdery snow fell around the mage, dusting his messy blonde hair. Strands fell across his distressed features.

“I am not Justice.” The person replied with Anders’ voice.  
“Anders then?” Hawke hoped. The mage looked up, revealing his gold and copper eyes. Little snowflakes collected against his eyelashes.  
“I am not him either.” The mage replied shakily.

“Fenris,” Hawke breathed, taking an instinctive step forward.  
The mage turned his face down again, shielding himself from his companions. His fingers twitched.

“Get no closer, Hawke. I don’t know how to stop it!” Fenris commanded, crossing his arms and lowering his head. A little purplish spark leapt from the mage’s hand before he suddenly clamped his hands shut. The steady fall of snow began swirling around, increasing with the mages’ distress. Aveline, Varric, and Narrin, entered the room behind Hawke.

“Leave!” Fenris commanded in his new voice, full of desperation.

“What can’t you stop?” Aveline asked Fenris. He made no reply as the wind whistled around the mage, his robes began flapping in the gale, Anders’ feathered pauldrons ruffled in the weather. Fenris’ hands raked through his blonde hair, holding his head as he tried to concentrate. He let out a strangled scream as his grip became tighter and tighter. His fingers began sparking and flickering. Varric was about to ask Fenris what he meant when Hawke went rigid in front of him.

“The noises,” he whispered, backing away from the mage whose screaming had increased in volume.  
“Get back, Get back now!” Hawke ordered, turning around and pushing everyone out before exiting and closing the door with a slam. Just as the door closed there was a flicker of light from the underneath the door followed by a mighty boom that shook the entire manor. The three companions put their hands up to shield their ears. The poor dog, Narrin, yelped at the blaring sound. Then it went silent.

Opening the door again, Fenris remained in the same position. The ground where Hawke had been standing was smouldering. A large burn mark remained where the lightning had struck. A little plume of smoke rose to the ceiling. The patch on the floor was already being covered up by a new layer of snow. Noticing that they had re-entered the room, Fenris shook his head.  
“You must go and get the abomination. You must reverse this now.” He told them. 

Hawke walked over and knelt beside Fenris.  
“Anders won’t be able to come to you and even if he could he won't be much help. What we need is for you to come with us so we can figure out how to reverse this spell.” the man said, attempting to comfort his friend. Fenris looked up, his brow was creased with discomfort. 

“If lightning is shooting out of him, keeping him in Hightown or even Kirkwall might not be an option,” Aveline advised. It was true. Even if Anders and Fenris were able to switch back once Anders woke up again, Fenris was out of control and displaying all the signs of an inexperienced apostate that templars looked for. The unexplained weather conditions would undoubtedly attract their attention. If he were caught, Meredith would make Fenris tranquil which was not an option.


End file.
